


To Save Him

by jaclynhyde



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Hopeful Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-14 21:19:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13598598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaclynhyde/pseuds/jaclynhyde
Summary: The first time he attempted to save Noct, he had already known Noct would refuse.





	To Save Him

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spacehopper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehopper/gifts).



> For spacehopper--have a lovely Chocolate Box! Thank you to my exquisite beta vanishinghitchhiker!

The first time he attempted to save Noct, he had already known Noct would refuse.

He had _hoped_ he wouldn't—hoped with a desperation nearing panic, that Noctis was no more than the spoilt child he sometimes appeared to be. That he would let Ignis care for him, protect him, as he always had done. That he would accept whatever Ignis said was best.

But Noct—Noct was _appalled._ Ignis had downplayed his own wounds, turned away so that Noct would not be swayed by his face, by the magic of kings seared into his flesh. Even so, he could not deny the death of his father, the death of his fiancee.

He could have argued. He could have listed reasons, _invented_ reasons, why ending their journey was the only sensible path of action. He might even have succeeded.

Except Noctis had finally accepted his responsibility. Noctis was responding not like a reluctant boy, but like a king.

And wasn't that what they had always wanted?

* * *

The second time he attempted to save Noct, he had not meant to speak.

Fighting was—difficult. He had been prepared to navigate by sound alone, but the bellows of the gurangatches and the water splashing at every movement left him lost in the cacophony of battle, nothing but _noise_ in every direction. All he could focus on were the familiar sounds of Noct's exertions in battle, grunts and shouts and—

A desperate cry, of shock and of pain, and the heavy splash of a body falling into the water.

_Noct—_

All he could do was shout his name, rush towards his voice—and stumble as his foot slammed into the rock he didn't realize was there, that he should have _known_ was there by now, and he had to reach him—

"Easy, Iggy." Prompto's arms were around him, steadying him, and the concern in his voice only stirred an anger that Prompto hardly deserved. "Gladio's got him."

"Of course," he said, as calmly as he could, letting Prompto steady him as he listened for Noct's voice, a sign that he was breathing.

It was a foolish, useless worry. He knew all too well that Noct would not die here, overwhelmed by daemons in a lonely swamp. That it made no difference whether he was there to protect him.

With a pat on the back, Prompto left him, to rejoin the fight. And Ignis listened.

The battle was over, soon enough, his companions comfortably dispatching the remaining daemons. And then Noct—breathing, living Noct—was at his side, a tentative hand on his elbow.

"Hey, Specs. You...you okay?"

"I was not the one needing a plume of phoenix down," is what he meant to say, what he might have said when he could see Noct's healing injuries at a glance. But now, now the words only caught in his throat. "Noct," he said, softly enough that none but Noctis could hear, "have you considered my...suggestion?"

There was a tense silence, just prolonged enough to give him hope, before the pressure on his arm evaporated. "No," Noctis said, voice hard.

They trudged on in silence.

* * *

The third time he attempted to save Noct, he was not given the chance to ask.

They had purchased two sleeper compartments for the night; the peace of mind gained from not forcing Gladio and Noct to share a cramped space was worth the expense. Gladio argued he should stay with Ignis, but Ignis firmly told him his fussing was enough to drive him mad. Which meant it was Noctis coming into their shared room, sliding the door shut with a quiet click.

They were, for the first time since Noct had recovered, alone.

It might be the last time in a long, long while.

And yet, it seemed they had nothing to say to each other. Ignis could hardly start a conversation with what he was cooking tonight, or a tear he noticed in Noct's jacket. And from his side of the room came not the muted soundtrack of King's Knight, nor the soft breaths of sleep, but the steady sound of pacing footsteps. Highly unusual for Noctis, but then all their usual habits were falling apart, weren't they?

Ignis faced towards him—he would studying Noct's face, were his eyes not closed, were he not blind— and fought down the urge to say—

The words burst out of Noctis' mouth instead. "What's going _on_ with you, Specs?"

He could see Noct's face in his mind, as clear as daylight. He'd seen this righteous anger before, aimed at Gladio for his harsh words, at King Regis for whatever slights a father made against a teenage boy.

At Ignis, for siding with the cook and encouraging a young Noct to eat his vegetables.

No. He didn't know, anymore, what Noct's face must look like.

Ignis said, carefully, "I am simply making sure you are aware of your options."

"I don't _have_ any options! _"_

His voice was steady. "There is always an option, Noct—"

 _"Stop_ it!" Noct was shouting, now, with the same helpless frustration he'd heard far too often lately. "Do you think I'm just going to let this go? Too bad you're blind? Too bad Luna and my dad and everyone were _murdered?_ Just hope the Empire gives up and nobody else dies?"

"What if it's _you_ , Noct?" His voice was forceful enough to stop Noct's words, louder than he expected, yet he couldn't stop. "What if avenging the dead costs your life?" The tears, so carefully hidden by his glasses, were spilling out _—no_ , he had to be the strong one, he couldn't—

"Iggy?" Noct asked, gentle and worried _,_ and Ignis's breaths were hitching in his throat.

He forced himself to breathe, to calm down. For Noct. "Forgive me, Noct. The—it's been a stressful time, you needn't—" And then his voice gave out completely, because there were fingertips following the wet trails on his cheeks. _"Noct,"_ he whispered.

"Iggy?" Noct's voice was shaking—no, no, this was what he needed to avoid, Noct wasn't meant to ever, ever worry about _him._

"Noct," he said, helplessly. And perhaps it was a gift, his blindness, because if he could see what Noct looked like right now, he wouldn't be able to stop himself. "Don't. Please _—please_ don't cry."

"I'm not gonna die, Iggy." Noct gave a short huff of a laugh, then, even as his warm fingers brushed away the tears that wouldn't stop. "Not with you guys looking out for me."

"I cannot _protect_ you." The almost-confession seared his throat. "I would let the world burn to allow you to live. But you—you would not."

The fingers on his face stopped, frozen. There—he'd finally gone too far, had laid himself too bare. But the touch only deepened, hands cupping his cheeks, cradling his face. "I'm alive, Iggy. I'm here." And then there were lips on his, chapped and uncertain and salty, damp with tears. It was perfect. It was _Noct._ And he wished he could go back in time, to when this was all he ever wanted.

Ignis kissed him, again and again, enough for all the years past and all those to come when he could not. And as he did, he trailed fingers over Noct's face, memorizing every inch, although he knew that face better than his own. Even if one day he forgot the sight of him, forgot sight altogether, he would remember this.

And when the desperation left their kisses, when their tears had finally dried, they simply held each other.

"Iggy," Noct murmured into Ignis's neck, "what...what happened in Altissia?"

His job, his very purpose, was to ease the burdens that lay heavy on a young man's shoulders—not to _add_ to them.

And yet…

Noctis had _asked_ for them _._

"I…" The specifics of his injury could come later. "I saw a vision."

"What was it?" And when Ignis's words died against his lips, Noct laced their fingers together and squeezed. "We can change it."

And, with Noctis's hand tight in his own, Ignis told him.

If nothing else, Noctis deserved to know. Knowledge of his impending death would not stop him, no more than Ignis could. No matter how hard he had tried, he expected no less of the man he loved.

But, in that moment, Ignis simply believed in Noct. His brother. His king.

They could change the future.

They could try, together.


End file.
